


The Eyes of a Child

by containyourselfladdie



Category: Merlin - Fandom
Genre: Fluff, M/M, SO MUCH FLUFF, but not really, but you just wait, clotpole!Arthur, dragon baby, i know it doesn't look like that yet, maybe in a metaphorical sense, mother!Merlin, no mpreg tho, sorry Merlin doesn't give birth to anything, there will be loads of fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-15
Updated: 2013-02-14
Packaged: 2017-11-29 08:13:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/684764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/containyourselfladdie/pseuds/containyourselfladdie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Oh, dear,” Merlin mutters to himself “I believe this dragon thinks I am its mother.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Eyes of a Child

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ballvvasher](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ballvvasher/gifts).



There are instances in Merlin’s life where he had imagined himself fighting destiny, evading the twisting webs and lines that seemed to bind him regardless of his actions, to rise up against all that had failed him and wield himself his own fate. 

There are times when Merlin simply labors on and on, hiding his magic, chafing under the scrutiny and the mutiny, while his power tears through his body, spinning fire through his veins, begging him to be let free.

Because he is more powerful than any of them, and he knows it. He could fell any knight with little more than one word. He could have every kingdom in all of Avalon bowing at his feet.

But he abstains, for that is Arthur’s destiny, and not his. Arthur’s fate is to be revered, to be King. And, in all honesty, Merlin would just as rather go unnoticed.

But there was never a moment where he felt more powerful than when he stands, one hand outstretched in front of the grand dragon egg and calls forth its name.

“Aithusa.”

The name falls of his lips with barely any effort. It pours out of him, buoyed by his magic, burning through his tongue until it feels like a promise, like a benediction, like he just sold a piece of his soul to some ethereal being.

But that is impossible, his soul belongs to Arthur. It always has, always will.

Yet, in that moment, when the egg cracks and Merlin stares in awe upon what he (for all intents and purposes) just created, he is stalled. For when the creature lifts its head and settles its eyes on Merlin, he understands. 

The creature gazes at Merlin with the eyes of a child. It screeches, once, in a sort of greeting. Then it hobbles off the tree stub the egg had sat on and bumbles its way over to Merlin.

“Oh, dear,” Merlin mutters to himself “I believe this dragon thinks I am its mother.”

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr: containyourselfladdie.tumblr.com


End file.
